


Three Boys Fixing

by Control_Room



Series: The W-lly Franks Twins [10]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Bets, Brothers, Fighting, Gay, ItS aLl GoNnA bE FiNe, Kiss on Cheek, Kisses, Love Triangles, M/M, Protective younger brother, Threesome, fighting over a person, oblivious wally, physical attacking, rickedy ladders, verbal attacking, very gay, working things out.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 15:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15122306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: Sammy’s apparently got resentment over Thomas. How dare he be the one with Wally?! It’s not fair![some swearing unavoidable](shout out to Random_ag for dragging me to hell and helping with some of the main fic points)





	Three Boys Fixing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Random_ag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/gifts), [thanks for dragging me to hell](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=thanks+for+dragging+me+to+hell).



BEFORE IT

“Everyone, this is Niamh O’Flinnal, aka your new productions manager,” Joey stated bluntly, pointing out the woman. Shawn grinned at her from across the table, cracking his knuckles, glad to see another Irish face. Susie and Allison exchanged glances, but smiled at the new woman among their numbers. Lacie also seemed pleased by the new addition. Grant and Bertrum smiled warmly, nodding in a calm and smooth acknowledgment. Johnny looked slightly nervous, but he wasn’t sure what he was worried about. Norman’s face remained neutral, but in reality, he was taking in every detail he could. Henry, who had been at the studio for the past few days, only nodded once before passing out on the table. Sammy murmured something to Jack, who glanced around and shrugged. “Any questions?”

“Three,” Sammy interjected, leaning back. “One, where’s Connor, two and three, where’s Franks?”

“Sammy here has a big ol’ crush,” Susie teased, squishing her cheeks. Sammy whipped around to glare at her, turning red. She smiled sweetly, and Allison giggled girlishly. “Sammy and Wally, sittin’ in a tree, k-i-s—”

“I do not have a crush!” Sammy indignantly yelped. Everyone at the table sniggered. Sammy turned even more red. “I-I just like him as a person is all.”

“So says banjo playing mister goo goo eyes,” Shawn remarked, rolling his eyes. “We’ve all seen the way you look at Wally. And we can all tell yer jealous whenever Thomas is ‘round ‘im. Man, if looks could kill, Thomas would be a dead man a hundred times over, just from him being near Wally!”

“I take it that that was the Thomas and Wally I met earlier, am I right?” Niamh asked Joey quietly. He nodded. “Oh.” She smiled with a cackle. “This’ll be fun.”

“Thomas is…” Sammy grimaced. Everyone laughed. He glared. “He’s okay.”

“When he’s far away from Wally, ain’t it?” Norman offered, hiding his grin. Sammy gave him a look that said ‘not you, too!’ Norman shrugged. “It is rather obvious.”

“Screw off,” Sammy grumbled darkly as his eye twitched.

“Banjo boy is getting upset,” Jack chuckled, leaning back in his chair lazily, using the nickname Johnny had drunkenly scrawled onto their foreheads. “Need I say more?”

“Uh huh, and word musicer is gonna feel pain.”

“Whaddya mea— OUCH! MOTHERFU—”

Johnny slapped a hand over Jack’s mouth as he swore repeatedly, doubling over, dragging Johnny down with him. As they crashed to the ground, Henry woke up from the bang, hair askew and glasses twisted. Joey held in a giggle at the sight.

“Joey also has a crush,” Susie informed Niamh smugly. Joey slowly turned his head to look at her. Susie rose her eyebrows with an expression denoting innocence. Allison held in a small smile. “Well, everyone knows who it is, anyways.”

“Who?” Henry asked, genuinely out of the loop of life. Everyone looked away, trying very hard not to give Joey away. “Was it something I said?”

“No,” Allison said softly, the only one who was able to look Henry in the eyes at the moment. “It’s an anti staring contest.”

“What happened to Jack?” Henry questioned further, glancing at the man on the floor, who was still muttering curses and swearing. “Was this something that Sammy did?”

“I think he hit him you know where with his banjo,” Johnny quipped, hand still lodged over Jack’s mouth. The men at the table winced and hissed. “Yeah, I don’t think either of us are getting up any time soon.”

“Good,” Sammy muttered, strumming his banjo. “He better not call me that again.”

“What, Banjo Boy?” Grant laughed from across the table, and found the table flipped over onto him, papers flying everywhere and knocking over himself, Norman, and Lacie. Bertrum jumped up to help her, and slipped on some of the papers, crashing to the floor as well, pulling down Allison as he gripped her chair to keep from falling, who grabbed Susie to steady herself, accidentally pulling her into the pile as well, and she kicked Henry’s chair, who held onto Joey, who tripped over a table leg, knocking into Sammy. Niamh and Shawn were left the only ones sitting. Grant groaned, pushing the table off him and pulling himself into a sitting position. “Ugh, my frickin’ back.”

“Luck o’ the Irish, am I right?” Niamh joked to Shawn with a wink. He laughed.

“You bet yer ass!”

“Sorry I’m late sir, the Bend— what in the name of Satan’s apple garden happened here?!” Willy asked, shocked, and he froze dead in his tracks, surveying the mess with wide eyes. He swept his eyes over everyone, and they narrowed when he saw Niamh. He spun around on his heel and threw his hands in the air, picking up a welding torch from the ground. “You know what? I’ve had a long day. I’m tired. So, guess what? Screw this, I’m out! Nope, nope, nope! I ain’t dealing with this.”

“Hold up,” Shawn muttered and hopped out of his chair to follow him. A few minutes later, his surprised laughter was heard coming down the steps. Everyone ignored it, expecting that something route had occurred, and they continued to gather themselves from the floor. Shawn soon dashed back into the room, alone. He spoke between bursts of incredulous laughter. “He… oh my God… he, he sealed himself on the roof, and he ain’t listenin’ ta me to come down.”

“He what?” Norman asked, surprised. “I’ll check.”

He poked his head out the window, pulling himself partially out. He suddenly paused, and lowered himself back into the room slowly, the very tip of his hair singed.

“I can break down the wall,” Niamh offered. Everyone stared at her short frame. She put a hand on her hip and pouted. “I feckin’ can and I will if I gotta.”

“It’s fine, Wally’ll be able to sort this out,” Joey assured her, calling him in through the walkie talkie system. “Wally? Willy’s on the roof and refusing to come down.”

THE BET

It turned out Wally was not able to sort it out. He and Thomas came back, surprisingly actually with pipes, and now they were standing outside the studio, trying to get his younger twin down. Everyone was there as well, most simply to wonder at the stubbornness of the Franks twins.

“Come on, Wilbur!” he yelled, laughing. “Just come down already!”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he shouted down to him. He paused. “Well, technically, you can, but that doesn’t mean I’ll listen.”

“Get down, Willy,” Joey shouted up, exasperated. “We all know you do more work than Wally! How’s he going to do the whole studio on his own? Come and help him!”

Willy responded by flipping Joey off.  
He was so astonished that he didn’t do anything about it.

“Please come down?” Thomas attempted, holding Wally’s hand, then noticed Sammy staring contemptuously at him. He rose an eyebrow. Sammy grit his teeth. Thomas tightened his fingers around Wally’s protectively, and was slightly surprised to see this gentle action caused him to narrow his eyes. Allison caught his eye and she winked. ‘he’s jealous,’ she mouthed. Thomas’ eyes widened, and surveyed Sammy again. Everything added up to it. He, without breaking eye contact, pressed a kiss to Wally’s cheek with a smug smile. Sammy flushed angrily. “Something the matter, Mr. Lawrence?”

No one heard any of his words, as the music director drowned them out with extremely violent banjo strumming. Allison burst out laughing. Willy, surprisingly, joined in, but his laughter was far more mischievous. Everyone glanced back up to him. He was leaning on the rail, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers, a challenging grin lopsidedly on his lips as he looked down at everyone.

“Alright, I’ve got a deal for you all,” he began. Wally stared up at him, only remembering six other instances in their lives that Willy had proposed a challenge. Each one always was difficult and annoying, and tended to take all day. Each one seemed easy in theory, but extraordinarily frustrating to complete, such as the time Willy had bet with Wally to pick the last apple by the evening for five dollars, a fortune for their ten year old selves. Wally had tried everything, kicking the tree, trying to climb it with futility, make a long pole, but nothing worked. By evening, he was sore and exhausted, and Willy came by, grinning, with a small cat. He set it down, and ushered it up the tree, where it promptly got stuck in the high branches. Willy called over a neighbor with a long ladder, and insisted that he wanted to save ‘his’ kitten himself. As he got the cat down, he plucked the apple. Wally stared at him as he munched it with a smug smile, petting the now purring cat. Wally had a very powerful sense of deja vu as Willy grinned down at everyone with that same cheeky smile he had when he picked the apple. “I’ll come down if you can do it. But I doubt that you’ll be able to do it within ten hours.”

“I bet we can do it in eight!” Norman shouted up, always loving a challenge. “No, make it seven!”

“Six!” Allison giggled. “It can’t be that hard!”

“Maybe even four!” Niamh added with a small grin, feeling the thrumming life of the bet. “You don’t seem like the type of person to make impossible challenges.”

“Guys, take it from experience,” Wally tried to stop them from diving into their graves, and attempted to explain the reality of the situation. “Willy does not kid around when he makes deals, ever. It’s not just a deal, it’s high stakes gambling, and you all need to put somethin’ into the deal to make it official. Willy, as the proposer, sets up a max time, and has immunity, as he needs to attempt the challenge if everyone fails, and if he fails, too, then you can take back your stuff. If the challenge is completed in a certain time frame, then the winnings are divided up between those who bet the occurrence would happen then or after then. Also, every single one of Willy’s challenges could be summed up in four words: easier said than done.”

“Alright,” Lacie hummed, cracking her knuckles and looking up at Willy. “And what is the challenge that be a waitin’ us?”

Willy laughed. Wally explained.

“That’s the catch,” he huffed, folding his arms. “You don’t know until you’ve placed a stake.”

“Time frame is ten hours,” Willy instated, still grinning ear to ear. “Correlatively, you have ten minutes to bet. If you don’t bet, you can watch chaos unfurl as everyone struggles to sabotage each other’s efforts and screw theirs over at the same time.”

“As much as I love a good wager,” Shawn started, glancing at the paper Henry had produced, which Wally marked with three columns, one labeled hour, with the numbers zero to ten and Willy’s Hour, the second labeled name, and the third ‘prize’. “I think I’m going to pass on this one. Also, what’s with zero?”

“It means completed before the first hour is up,” Susie told him with a toss of her curled hair ends, signing herself in there, betting ten dollars. She justified her actions, saying, “It can’t nearly be as awful as Wally makes it out to be, he's just biased.”

Joey bet in the fifth hour, submitting a box of candy. Norman followed in the sixth, betting two movie tickets. Henry and Allison placed a joint bet for the third, offering five dollars together. Johnny said one, and put in a medium sized bottle of wine. Niamh heeded Wally’s words and put in a green silk ribbon in the ninth hour. Eventually, everyone but Shawn put in a bet, the monetary value of the whole pool at around a hundred fifty dollars.

Wally immediately signed into Willy’s hour, betting himself a hundred fifty dollars. Everyone gaped in shock as he added the zero with complete certainty.

“And time’s up!” Willy called down cheerfully. “Seal off that paper, and get ready for your challenge!” A moment of preparation slipped by, most of them subconsciously steeling themselves or holding their breath. Willy grinned, and it suddenly hit everyone how they had no clue what was in store. Wally was the only one who was ready for impact, and even he was feeling anxious in those few moments before the verdict. “Get Thomas and Sammy together without destroying their relationship with my brother, as in other words, figure out a way to add Sammy in — healthily, meaning with one hundred percent consent from all parties. All of them.”

“See? Easier said than done,” Wally smirked at everyone’s now hopeless expressions, before another thing hit him. “Wait a second! Willy! The Hell?!” Willy rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Actually… nevermind. Am I really that oblivious?”

“Yes!” Everyone shouted collectively. “You are!”

Sammy glared at Thomas, throwing his fifteen dollars in the second hour to the wind. Thomas scowled back, pulling Wally closer to himself, not caring he bet twenty dollars for the seventh hour.

“There goes my stuff,” Susie huffed, then grinned. “But I doubt Willy’d have much luck, either.”

“Espera un momento y la fruta caerá en tu mano,” Willy called down. Wally seemed to be the only one who understood, and he relaxed with a smile. Willy smiled back and shrugged. “Just have some patience.”

HOUR ZERO

Susie could at the very least say she tried. She did, but not very hard. She had just left the two of them in the same room when Wally had to go upstairs for work. However, the results were very disheartening to any and all other future attempters.

“Dot dot dot,” Sammy said, not literally, like comic book speech, and he had just glared at Thomas, before stomping over, one hand clenching his banjo, the other digging into his skin, leaving four crescents in his palm. He played his banjo extremely angrily in the mechanic’s face. Almost anyone could hear the furious (and jealous) murderous intent. Thomas looked slightly down at him contemptuously, yet with a holier-than-thou aura. When Sammy had finally finished, he merely yelled at the top of his lungs, “SCREW YOU!”

“YOU TOO!” Thomas shouted, red in the face, then stormed out, almost yanking the door off the hinges in his rage. “Ugh! Why did you have to butt in!? Why did you have to get involved!? This is so stupid!”

“Maybe because I love him!? Because I want to be with him?!” Sammy retorted, coloring. “AND YOU'RE STUPID!”

“I ALREADY LOVE HIM, AND HE’S MY BOYFRIEND, NOT YOURS!” Thomas furiously finished, slamming the door hard enough to rattle three floors. “AND YOU’RE STUPIDER!”

Sammy shoved papers off his desk and flipped over his chair, then screamed into his hands.

Thomas kicked a wall and knocked over a pile of scrap metal, then screamed into a pipe.

HOUR ONE

“Get out of my WAY!”

“Oh yeah!? WELL, I HAVE AN IDEA! HOW ABOUT YOU GET OUT OF MY LIFE!”

“LET GO OF HIM!”

“NO, YOU LET GO!”

“NO, YOU NEED TO LET GO!”

“NUH UH, HE’S MY BOYFRIEND! YOU LET GO!”

Joey rubbed his temples. Neither Lawrence nor Connor were letting this up. Both were bitter and distrusting of the other. Poor Wally, despite his obliviousness, dragged into the mess. He peaked out of his office, and saw each pulling on one of Wally’s arms, tight enough to keep a hold, but gentle enough as to not hurt him.

“C’mon guys, can’t love multiply or something?” Wally asked, trying to placate both. “Aren’t I enough for two?”

“No!” they shouted. Wally flinched, both of them seeing hurt in his expression. Both let go in shame, Thomas rubbing the back of his neck apologetically, Sammy staring at the floor, burning red. They both mumbled, “sorry.”

“Sorry to intrude, but you’re all pretty loud anyways,” Joey spoke, getting all three’s attention. “Why don’t you both just kiss him?”

“Fine,” Thomas grumbled, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek, and with a sigh, Sammy did as well. Thomas felt Sammy try to shove him away, and he gripped the other’s wrist tight enough to bruise. He flipped him off behind Wally’s back, Sammy shaking a fist at him. Wally at first was content, but he felt the oppressive air. He stepped backwards, and walked off briskly, upset. Thomas glared at Sammy. “Your fault.”

HOUR TWO

It was quiet… too quiet. Everyone knew why. Thomas was on the very bottom floor while Sammy vanished into his ‘secret’ room. Honestly, the door to the room was in the middle of the recording studio. Everyone knew about it, just no one knew how to get in (sans Willy and Wally). All the staff members decided to avoid both entirely, either in the middle or hiding in their personal rooms. Wally glanced around nervously, before flicking on the projector and dashing down to do the pass code. It took three tries. He stumbled towards Sammy’s room, peaking into the doorway. Sammy was leaning over his desk, some papers splayed out on the desk. Wally tiptoed into the room, but didn’t notice the Bendy plushie on the floor, which let out a sharp squeak when he stepped on it. It was extremely loud in the deafening silence.

Sammy shot up, spinning on his toes to see the intruder. Wally stared back with wide eyes. Sammy’s entire being relaxed and softened when he recognized the young janitor for who he was. Wally studied his face. There was kindness, adoration, and overall happiness. Wally swallowed roughly, looking down, embarrassed and nervous.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he realized aloud, returning his eyes to Sammy. He looked on helplessly as happiness shifted into wistfulness. “I’ll go now—”

“No, stay, please!” Sammy said rather forcefully, but without force behind the action, just the words forced out painfully. “I could use the help.”

“No… I’m sorry.”

HOUR THREE

Thomas stared at a paper on his desk, even as Sammy glared (with tears burning in his eyes) at one on his. Each was from the other, a hate poem on Thomas’ table, and a blueprint of ‘an idiot’ on Sammy’s. Both sucked it up, leaving their respective offices at around the same time, each walking around on their floor restlessly. Due to their rather high volume in complaining, no one was paying attention to the fact that the Heavenly Toys department was completely silent other than the hum of machines. If one were to look inside, Shawn wouldn’t be there, and even if Willy would go to check his hideaway, he wouldn’t have been there either, because he was outside.

“Shaaawn, whyyyy?” Willy whined from above, but with a smile on his lips. Shawn laughed. “Why would anyone think that’s a good idea? Plus, aren’t you scared of heights?”

“Eh, I don’t really care,” Shawn replied as he tied another ladder to the first two, not remembering his absolute terror of heights. He looked up at Willy with a grin. “‘Sides, it’s not a good idea. Never said it was!”

“And how many more ladders are you going to mangle?” Willy asked, leaning his head on the rail. Shawn huffed. “Then again, no one uses them anyways, so they don’t matter.”

“Exactly, my mhuirnín,” Shawn agreed, smiling as Willy dissolved at the Irish affectionate term, blushing ever so slightly. “Also, three or four.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

HOUR FOUR

Thomas rolled against the wall to avoid another punch. With a growl and narrow eyes, he slipped to the middle of the room, charging at Sammy with a roar. The musician sidestepped, Thomas lunging again, catching Sammy around the chest, slamming him to the floor painfully. Henry pushed himself closer to the wall as the two men grappled, each missing hits no matter how fast they swung. The animator stared in shock, trying to edge out of the room and avoiding being hit by any of the flying chairs or cut outs. He dodged a barrel that smashed right next to him, exactly where he was moments before. If they weren’t fighting so violently, one could assume that they were attacking Henry.

“SCREW!” Sammy shouted, throwing a chair, further confirming the rumor floating around the studio that he was ripped, “YOU!”

“SHUT!” Thomas yelled, swinging a kick to Sammy’s face, which he barely dodged,feeling the breeze as it passed a centimeter from his nose. “UP!”

“NO! LISTEN TO ME, YOU JERK!” Sammy retorted, red from anger and physical exertion. “I LOVE WALLY, AND HAVE SINCE I MET HIM!”

“THAT’S BECAUSE YOUR A PANSEXUAL MUSICIAN WHO LIVES TO SING ABOUT LOVE!”

“YOU LOVE HIM JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE A BI MECHANIC WHOSE SOLE PURPOSE IS TO BUILD A FRICKIN’ RELATIONSHIP!”

“YOUR INSULTS SUCK!”

“YOURS ARE EVEN WORSE!”

Henry bolted for the exit, knocking over some bacon soup. The clatter startled them, and they glared at each other before returning to work.

HOUR FIVE

Lacie glanced around a corner, hoping to find Thomas. She didn’t see him. She briskly walked down the hall, almost jogging. As she passed a few doors, she thought she heard a hushed conversation. She went into the room next door, crouching on the floor by the vents to listen, pretending to be working on an electric outlet.

“... t’s not fair,” she heard Thomas hiss. Someone replied softly. “I know he does.”

“Maybe try?” Lacie could make out Allison’s voice. “I know this whole thing is pretty much my fault, but trust me on this.”

“I can’t even look at him without feeling possessive!” Thomas growled, and Lacie heard footsteps, going closer to her and further. He was pacing. “And you want me to talk to him. Besides that point, he’s the one that starts all the fights!”

“That might be tr…” a rush of air cut her off from Lacie’s hearing range, but she did hear from Sammy, a few floor below, grumble ‘... upid mechanic!’, to which Fain replied ‘maybe he’s only stupid because you don’t know him all that wel…’ — and the conversation cut back to Thomas and Allison. “... ybe you’ll find a love like a rose bush, always thorny at first before blossoming into something beautiful.”

“Beautif… ootiful,” she could barely make out Thomas grumble, and a chair being pushed aside. There was a lull in conversation. Then — “I’ll try. If he starts yelling, I won’t hesit… ch.”

“Thanks Thoma...” Lacie rose mutely. “... works out.”

HOUR SIX

Thomas’ hands were clenched tightly into fists on the table, and they shook ever so slightly. Sammy’s eye twitched as they struggled to maintain contact, and his motions were stiff. Thomas looked like he was about to cry of frustration and Sammy seemed to be on the verge of screaming himself into the void. They both held themselves back from these actions. They were both trying very hard. Moments ticked by painfully. Thomas’ eyes burned, and Sammy’s throat felt tight and constricted.

“I CAN’T DO THIS!” Sammy shrieked as Thomas began to cry, letting out a wordless yell of pent up frustration. “I CAN’T STAND THE PRESSURE!”

“Time?” Grant asked tiredly, turning to Johnny. The organist raised the stopwatch, knowing he wouldn’t be heard over Sammy’s and Thomas’ indecipherable yammer. Sixteen minutes and forty two seconds. Grant smiled a little with a sigh, looking up and muttering to Johnny, “Well, it’s better than last time.”

“I know you’re trying to fight the fact you want to tear each other to shreds,” Johnny muttered, each with their backs facing the other. “I think it’s the right track. It’s… rickety, but at least you can look at each other for more than fifteen minutes.”

“This sucks,” Thomas rasped, throat scratchy from bitterly crying. He cleared it to alleviate some of the pain, but ended up worsening a coughing fit. Tears dripped from the new pains. Sammy glanced at him guiltily, sliding him a cough drop. Thomas took it, glancing up. “... Thank you.”

HOUR SEVEN

Shawn poked his head out onto the roof. Willy greeted him with a kiss on the nose. He wobbled back, but Willy caught his wrist and helped him steady himself on his lengthened ladder. Shawn gave him a wavering grin, forcing himself to not look down. His hands gripped the railing, and Willy’s hands rested gently over his own a welcome and glowing feeling. He let out a sigh, Willy smiled. Shawn melted at the genuine happiness.

“And you thought I wouldn’t make it,” he grinned. Willy rolled his eyes, smiling wider. “Well… I haven’t gotten on, have I?”

“I take it that you’ve come to serenade me from the rooftops?” Willy laughed, looking at Shawn with a tired grin and a toss of his curls. Shawn blushed as he laughed. “Because if you did, you forgot your guitar.”

“I did?” Shawn asked, glancing around, pretending to spy it on the ground. He laughed, albeit with a little fear. “Damnit! IFRINN! I’M LOOKING DOWN!”

“It’s okay,” Willy giggled, then pitched forward as the ladder swung back. He yanked Shawn onto the roof, and he landed sprawled on top of him. The guitar he strapped to his back clattered onto the roof as well. Shawn grinned, still a little green from the height. Willy laughed, giving his hands a squeeze. “You did that on purpose, you sly Irish coyote.”

“Aw, shuddup you beautiful sonofabitch,” Shawn laughed, kissing him, pushing his head to the roofing. Willy giggled. Shawn chuckled. “Love ya.”

“Mhmm.”

HOUR EIGHT

Any progress made seemed to be rapidly unfurling as soon as they brought Wally into the picture. Thomas would grow possessive and Sammy would turn to jealousy. Niamh was becoming more and more annoyed by this. She pondered the problem, and found no easy solution. Both wanted Wally for themselves. Both were willing to break bone for him. Well, if they were up for a fight, then Niamh would gladly give them one. She stormed over to the bickering boys, grabbing each by the ear and dragging them into a random empty room. She whipped around, roundhouse kicking them both in one. Sammy caught Thomas as he stumbled into him, righting himself with him. Sammy’s expression was hard, angered, and Thomas’ was apprehensive but enraged. They looked at each other, then returned their furious stares to Niamh. Sammy made the first move, picking up Thomas and throwing him with all his might at the little but powerful lady. Thomas did a barrel roll midair, swinging his leg as he landed, forcing Niamh back a good meter or so. Sammy let out a bellow of attack and charged, armed with two halves of a broken music stand. Niamh dodged again, hitting the back of Sammy’s knees with her elbow as she ducked under his blows. Thomas pulled out his hammer and a gent pipe he found on the ground, and managed to clip her on the shoulder and jab her stomach. Sammy hit her cheek. She grinned. The fight was on.

HOUR NINE

“Sammy really say that?” Willy asked, laughing, as he strummed the guitar softly (Shawn had no musical experience whatsoever, as it turned out). “What kind of idiots work here again?”

“All kinds,” Shawn replied, smiling, standing up and adapting a show man’s tone. “Step right up and pick an idiot, any idiot! Tall idiots, short idiots, chubby idiots and thin idiots, we’ve got ‘em all! Just come on over to Joey Drew’s Idiot Emporium, and buy one get one free, while idiots last!”

“Pfft!” Willy burst into a fit of giggles, turning pink. “That sums up here, pretty much! Wonderful job, Shawn! Haha! Just don’t tell Joey, he’d massacre.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Shawn put a finger to Willy’s lips and brought it to his own. Willy smiled, playing a happy tune on the string instrument. Shawn pointed at it. “When did you learn to play that, anyways?”

“I… uh...” drunken haze, Tim was shattering glass, he was stealing, and Willy was telling Timothy it isn’t right, and he called him a whiny sonofabitch. He forced him to take the stolen guitar, and told him he had to play it. He didn’t know how. Who taught him? Willy’s mind cleared from his memories as he remembered what, rather than who, taught him. He continued talking, as the memory only took moments to relive, so his pause seemed as a stutter.“I read a book. I learned from a book.”

“Must’ve been a good book, because yer excellent.”

“Thank you.”

HOUR TEN

“My head is killing me,” Thomas groaned. Sammy rubbed his neck, nodding stiffly in agreement. And their mutual pain was both fixed and worsened as Wally walked in, fixed by the man’s presence, worsened by the re-realization that the other was preventing him from just being happy. Thomas jumped to the plate. “Hi Wally, how’re you doing?”

“Wally! You’re looking good! N-not that today is an exception, I mean you always look amazing, bu— HEY! THAT HURT!” Sammy shouted as Thomas ground his heel into his toes. Thomas looked at him with an innocuous face but with smug pride in his eyes. Sammy just looked hurt for a split second, but it instantly morphed into uncontrollable anger. He punched Thomas, one blow after the other. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!”

“Stop, please!” Wally shouted, scared out of his mind. Neither heard him, only hearing the blood rushing in their ears and the words of their opponent. “Samuel Lawrence, stop! Don’t you dare start, Thomas!”

“I! HATE! YOU! TOO!” Thomas screamed hoarsely, not listening to Wally, emphsising each word with a blow in return. Sammy stopped wailing hits, and suddenly became uncharacteristically on the defense. Thomas slowed his attack, and Sammy restarted. “YOU! STUPID! MUSIC! DIRECTOR!”

“You… MORONIC MECHANIC!”

Thomas kicked his leg, and Sammy smacked his shoulder. And out of the blue, they found themselves thrown away from each other. Shawn stood between them, eyes hard.

“That’s enough,” Willy commanded. He clasped his hands. “My turn.”

WILLY’S HOUR

“Alright, yell out all your pain so I can assess the damage,” Willy sighed, tapping his pen to the table. Sammy and Thomas sucked in breaths, ready to scream. Willy rose his hand. “I’m going to say a word, and you two will associate it with your current situation. The word is ‘cheat’.”

“YOU CHEAT ME OUT OF BEING HAPPY!” Sammy immediately shouted, glaring at Thomas.

“For god’s sake,” Thomas barked, “I DID NOTHING LIKE THAT! I JUST LOVE WALLY! YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD UNDERSTAND!”

“I DO! AND… and that’s why I hate you! Because no matter how much I want to destroy you, I understand! AND YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW LOVE SHOULD BE UNCONDITIONAL!”

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHY I HATE YOU, BECAUSE YOU AREN’T A THING, YOU’RE NOT A CONDITION! YOU’RE A PERSON, AND I HAVE A SENSE OF GODDAMN EMPATHY!”

Neither had anything else to say, so they stared at the table. Willy smiled softly.

“So, going by this, neither of you have a real reason to hate the other,” he said. They gawked at him in shock. “You both feel like your territory is being attacked. You naturally believe that you will lose everything if you share with each other, but you should know — all you will do is gain.”

“But…”

“Nope, not now,” Willy stopped Thomas. “You were going to talk about the past. The best way to live is in the now. Right now, instead of feeling bitter, I want you both to breath in… and let go. Let go of the past. It’s hard. Sometimes it won’t leave, but do the best you can. Now, when I say a word, Thomas, I want you to make an association. The word is ‘creative’.”

“... Sammy,” Thomas muttered, turning pink. Sammy looked at him, eyes wide.

“Good,” Willy held in a broad grin, opting for a cautious smile. “Sammy, it’s your turn. Remember, it needs to be the first thing that comes to mind. Your word is ‘energy’.”

“... Thomas,” Sammy said, neck flushing a little.

“Excellent,” Willy leaned back. “Last word for both of you is ‘smile’.”

“Wally,” they said at the same time.

“Okay, now look at each other, say the other’s name, and smile,” Willy instructed. They did, and Willy told them to repeat, but the second time, he shouted, “ABRACA SCREW YOU!” making Thomas and Sammy’s smiles crack up, becoming more natural, more goofy and relaxed. “See? Look at that smile! Isn’t it nice? Now, think of something bad about that smile.”

Silence.

“Perfect,” Willy cachinated. “Say something nice about that smile.”

“It’s soft,” Sammy admitted, his lips twitching a little more into a smile. “It’s cute, fits your personality.”

“Yours is handsome,” Thomas mumbled, turning pink again. “I think that… it’s unexpected for someone like you, but it’s like a puzzle piece that works perfectly.”

“Say something good about the other’s personality.”

“You’re really smart,” Thomas commented, grinning shyly. “And your so creative, and I really like your music. A lot more than I would care to admit.”

“You’re kind and helpful,” Sammy ascribed, his own smile faltering but regained. “And you’re energetic, it’s so fun to see you go on and on things you love.”

“You two don’t truly know each other, as much as you’d deny it,” Willy said. He rubbed his temple. “Now, there’s one thing I know you both have in common — love for my brother. I want the best for him. He, though he’ll never admit it, doesn’t like arguments. Neither do I. Do you two think you can work through your differences to make this work, for all of us? I’m not saying ignore them, I’m saying figure out a way to fix it. Do both of you think you can do this, not only for yourselves and Wally, but also for each other?”

They looked at each other. Sammy’s lips twitched into a light smile.

“I think,” Thomas spoke softly, smiling back, taking Sammy’s hand in his, “that we can. What do you think, Sammy?”

“Worth a shot,” the music director said calmly, but beamed beneath the surface, eyes glowing. He tightened the hold. They turned to face the younger twin in the room and smiled. “Willy? Can you be the one to tell Wally?”

“Haha… what?” he smiled confusedly, nervously. “Echem, aren’t there better options than me?”

“Please?” Thomas asked, eyes big, smiling daintily. He was suddenly reminded of little Marina Kidd. He acquiesced.

“Fine,” he muttered gruffly, getting up. Sammy and Thomas shared a victorious grin and followed him. He stepped into the halls, knowing to go directly to the pub room where everyone was, all awaiting the verdict to find out if Willy was successful. Willy motioned for Sammy and Thomas to wait by the doors, and told them to come in when they heard the word ‘brother’. He went in, picking out his brother immediately. He kept in his smile, tapping his shoulder. “Wally.”

“Willy!” Wally jumped up, anxious. He frowned when he didn’t see the other two. He instantly covered up his disappointment. “Ah, well… I guess you can’t get ‘em every time, right Wills?”

“Don’t lose hope, brother,” Willy's voice almost cracked. Thomas and Sammy came down the steps, holding hands. Everyone went ballistic, making Thomas blush. Sammy did a bold move and kissed his cheek. Allison and Susie screamed, fangirling. Fain swore, a dopey grin on his face. Wally’s entire being lit up, face shining, eyes glowing, and light seemed to radiate from him. Willy’s eyes were watery when he looked back at him. Willy, after a moment of silence, leapt to hug his brother, tightly. “I love you, bro.”

“I love you, too,” Wally managed to say. Willy laughed softly, pulling away and taking his brother's hands in his, intertwining them with Sammy's and Thomas’. He laughed. “And I love you two.”


End file.
